


When Pigs Fly

by DrBackstab



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Junkrat is being a little shit what else is new, Plot, Shitty Puns, Swearing, Team Dynamics, mercyhog, mostly fun and fluff and Roadhog dealing with one-sided love and Junkrat's horrible advice, roadmercy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrBackstab/pseuds/DrBackstab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roadhog is a one-man apocalypse, a feared enforcer, a dangerous outlaw, and also <i>too old</i> for this shit. He isn't used to feeling like this, whatever <i>this</i> is, and doesn't like it one bit. Junkrat being the world's worst wingman doesn't help much either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Old Fool

He had not only survived an apocalypse and its aftermath, he had _thrived_ in it. When lesser men succumbed to the radiation and harsh elements of the Outbacks, he’d made it his personal stomping ground. He could silence an entire bar filled with junkers, bandits and other kind of lowlife with a low growl, could send a gang running for the hills with a menacing look. When Australia started to feel too cramped for him and his boss, they’d taken the show on the road – and international police forces and SWAT teams had been just as unable to stop them as a junker gang armed with pea shooters.

Roadhog was used to being the biggest and baddest person around, and he was used to everyone else knowing it, too. He was used to other people desperately scrabbling out of his way, their looks of fear, the feeling of being an unstoppable force of nature.

He was _not_ used to receiving a grateful smile followed by a cheery “Danke!”, like the one he’d gotten when he’d moved out of the way to let doctor Angela Ziegler enter the dropship before him.

He was kind of used to feeling weak at the knees, but usually it only happened when he hadn’t eaten for a couple of days. 

Roadhog sat down in silence with his huge hands clasped in front of him as the rest of the team entered the dropship, in high spirits after the brief but successful scuffle with the Talon agents. As the ship’s engines roared and it took to the air Mercy walked around taking care of the injuries that hadn’t been serious enough to heal out in the battlefield, and just… how was it _possible_ to have so much kindness and patience fit into one person?

Soft. Weak. This wasn’t him. Roadhog _had_ no weaknesses, and this… whatever _this_ was… it was dangerously close. Roadhog didn’t like this. Not one bit. He was too old for this, too gristled, had seen too much shit. He had been so sure he had lost the ability too feel like _this_ decades ago, when he’d buried the remnants of his old self.

That was it. He was an old fool who had started to grow soft, and he needed to take this newfound weakness and bury it deep within him until it suffocated and died. Yeah.

His boss, who had been talking to him ever since the plane took off, had kept the conversation going with the minimum amount of input from Hog's side. “And then I said to the guy, I said to him, ‘Ever seen the Aussie fireworks up close, mate?’ Looked like he was about to piss himself, or start crying, or both. Piece of shit Talons. Wouldn’t last a day in the Outbacks, right?” 

“Huh,” Roadhog confirmed, without looking away from the other side of the room. The blonde doctor was currently fussing over Tracer, who had gotten a nosebleed after a literal run-in with an enemy soldier.

“Right!” Junkrat exclaimed. “And then I pushed him off the roof, down to where I’d set the explosives – here’s the _good_ part, see – “ Junkrat looked up expectantly at his bodyguard, eager to get to the story’s finale (which they both had been present for just thirty minutes earlier) and then he frowned when he noticed Roadhog’s lack of attention. “My bombs drowned the entire country in rice pudding and the big ape let me ride on his shoulders to the moon. But then that cloaked fella with the skull mask jumped out and straight up murdered us all. Tragic, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Roadhog grunted. He was met with an angry slap right on his gut.

 _“You haven’t listened to a word I said, ya big lug!”_ Junkrat hissed. Roadhog blinked slowly, returning his attention back to the angry junker in front of him. He was genuinely surprised that Junkrat had noticed that Roadhog had been zoning out, considering that Hog usually wasn’t more talkative.

“Roadhog?” a soft voice next to the pair said, and Roadhog just - _froze._ Mercy’s white armour was not as spotless as it had been when they shipped out earlier that day - it had gotten a few flecks of dirt and some scuffmarks, and even a now-dried splash of blood on the side. Her hair was messier than usual and a streak of soot covered her left cheek, but her blue eyes were as warm and kind as always.

She was beautiful, he thought before he could stop himself. Then he gave himself a mental slap, forcing himself to answer her and to _stop._ Just. _Stop._ Whatever this was it needed to stop.

“…yeah?”

“I would like to take a look at your wound, if you don’t mind,” she said, gesturing towards a small nick on his arm.

“ ‘S nothing,” Roadhog mumbled automatically. It was true. He barely felt it. 

Mercy gave him a stern look, clearly not in the mood for arguing. “It’s not nothing, it’s _bleeding!_ I’ll just be a minute.”

Roadhog fell silent and then turned slightly to give the medic access to his shoulder. He sat absolutely still with his hands resting on his knees as she dabbed at it with a cotton pad drenched with disinfectant. Then she unhooked her Caduceus staff from her side and aimed its healing ray towards the wound. Roadhog closed his eyes as he was bathed in its golden light – the warmth spread throughout his body, knitting his flesh together. The procedure didn’t even leave a scar, and, unlike his homemade medical canisters, didn’t make him feel like coughing up a lung after it was done.

“There you go!” she said and gave his shoulder two pats. “Good as new.”

Roadhog just nodded. The doctor turned around and walked up to the bridge, her heels clicking against the metal steps. As soon as she was out of sight Roadhog let out a long, ragged sigh, first now realizing that he’d been holding his breath the entire time she’d been fixing him up.

His attention suddenly snapped back to Junkrat, who had been suspiciously quiet during the doctor’s visit. He was still sitting where he had before, looking first at Roadhog, then up towards the bridge, then back at Hog. His round, buggy eyes almost looked as if they were about to pop right out of his skull.

Slowly, an absolutely hellish grin spread over his face. Roadhog felt his stomach drop. It had been a long time since he’d experienced horror, too, but this was suspiciously similar.

“Ohoho _hooooh!_ ” Junkrat cackled loudly, slapping one of his knees in delight, drawing the looks of the other passengers who’d previously been occupied with their own conversation. Roadhog needed to shut him up _quick,_ so he reached out and covered Rat’s entire face with his right hand. The sound of the younger man’s loud protests was muffled against Roadhog’s calloused palm.

“Is he… is he alright?” the young Brazilian DJ asked hesitantly, looking at the junker who was viciously struggling against the strong grip, trying to pry away the fingers on the side of his head.

“Yeah,” Roadhog grunted, not even flinching as Junkrat dug his sharp teeth into his palm. “Just a bit ‘fraid of heights.”  
He dragged the struggling Junkrat close to his face and lowered his voice to a low, ominous rumble. “I’ll let him go when he _sits down, shut up and stops being a little shit._ ” 

“Ooookay,” Lúcio said as he slowly sat down again.

Roadhog eased his grip a bit, letting Junkrat draw in a greedy breath. Tempting as it was, he wasn’t going to suffocate his boss. Wouldn’t have looked good on his résumé. “Got it?” he asked, his voice still low and threatening.

“Yeah, got it,” Junkrat wheezed. Roadhog finally relented and released him fully, but immediately regretted this decision when Junkrat ducked away, out of reach, with the same shit-eating grin back on his face as he stage-whispered: “You _got it bad,_ mate!”

The chase that followed made the dropship veer slightly to all the other passengers protests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhh this is supposed to be a short 'n sweet story, hope you'll like it! Mainly an excuse to write Junkrat being a horrible wingman, Roadhog being an awkward one-man apocalypse and Mercy taking absolutely no prisoners. I have an overwatch blog at over-trash.tumblr.com and my main blog is yohunny.tumblr.com, please come talk trash with me! And fyi this is the first fic I share online
> 
> For now I'm only tagging the members of Overwatch who have had speaking roles so far, but assume the entire team is there except from Bastion, Orisa and Ana. Soldier 76 has an on/off again relationship with Overwatch.
> 
> Edit: This started off as a one-shot but I sort of liked where it was going and kept adding more chapters (at a really slow pace) and now we seem to have a plot infestation going on, as in there was not supposed to be any plot but it seemed to have found its way in anyway. That's what happen when you don't use enough insulation.


	2. Touchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a dangerous mercenary, he tells himself as he and Junkrat stay up late and talk about _feelings._ Or at least Junkrat does. Roadhog just wants to sleep.

“No, but _seriously,_ mate. I can totally see it.” Junkrat laid outstretched on his back on the bottom bunk bed, head dangling over the bedframe, holding up his good hand in front of himself like he was framing a scene. Roadhog pulled his covers tighter over his head. Getting Junkrat to shut up during the rest of the flight, the following debriefing and the common dinner had been like trying to dam up a brook using only his hands. By now Roadhog had given up and was just waiting for his protégé to wear himself out with all the endless talking, but no such luck yet. He just kept _going._

Roadhog was used to blocking out the younger man’s constant yammering, but it wasn't as easy to do when it was about himself. Made it hard to bury it all inside of him when his shithead companion kept constantly dragging it up to gawk at.

“How is that saying now… opposites attract, innit? I mean, she’s _brilliant._ Nice. Pro’lly too good to be true. Bit of a looker, too,” Junkrat squinted and focused like he was trying to conjure up an image of the doctor before his inner eye. “Got those big blues and all.”

“You done?” Roadhog rumbled from his mattress down on the floor. When they’d gotten the room assigned to them Junkrat had kept falling out of the top bunk, and Roadhog was not even going to try it. It had been easier to just take the mattress and sleep on the floor.

“Then we have _you,_ ” Junkrat continued, but he was cut short by Roadhog slamming a giant fist against the floor. The sound reverberated through the entire room.

“Lights out means _shut the hell up.”_

“Touchy,” Junkrat mumbled, but he actually stayed quiet afterwards. Roadhog gave an approving grunt, and turned over on his side to sleep. And then to his other side. Then he turned on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Usually he would fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and he had been looking forward to it the entire day – to just be able to lay down and _not think_ for a couple of hours, free from Junkrat’s needling. Free from the doctor’s kind eyes.  
It looked like that wouldn’t be the case tonight. He felt strangely cheated.

It would be so much easier if she had hated him. Or if she had been wary of him, like many of her teammates were. Always looking at him and Junkrat like they were a couple of loose screws rattling around in an otherwise smooth-running engine, about to make the whole thing blow sky high. _That_ he was used to, knew how to handle.

Not Mercy, though. Never wary or fearful, sometimes angry, though, when he and Junkrat had rushed ahead without waiting for the rest of the team. Worried when they would return bleeding. And then, sometimes, there was those _looks._ Encouraging looks, like she expected him to do good. Expected him to be someone he wasn’t. No-one had ever expected much from him, except from Junkrat, who definitely never expected Hog to do _good._  
When Mercy looked at him like that he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, tell her that she had him all wrong.  
_I’m just here for the money,_ he would say. _I’m a mercenary and a murderer, I tear people apart, more people than you have put together._  
But he never did. Instead he went out there and tried his best.

Roadhog sighed and buried his unmasked face into the pillow. This was a mistake. Joining Overwatch had been a mistake – not that they had much of a choice, since it had been either joining them or rotting in jail. Staying with Jamie for so long had been a mistake. The Roadhog who had been surviving on his own in the Outbacks for so long, hardened under the baking Australian sun and radioactive clouds that either killed anything that tried to survive or turned it into something overgrown and twisted, was disappearing. In his place was this mess of a man, tossing and turning at night, depending on others and being depended upon. He was growing soft. Soggy at the core.

Maybe he should just up and leave. Wait until everyone was asleep, get his bike from the storage unit and just drive as long as the road would carry him. Fuck the money, fuck Overwatch, _fuck everything._

He could feel a light tap on his shoulder. “Roadie! You awake?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbled into the pillow.

“Rude. Listen, I was just thinking – what’s the next step? ‘Cause I got some ideas that’ll _definitely_ get things going. I’m thinkin’ you and her, alone in the common room ‘cause everyone else is off lookin’ at the huge explosion in the hangar, some fine wine and dine…”

“There _is_ no next step.”

Junkrat stopped in the middle of his enthusiastic plans and propped himself up on his elbows, frowning down at his bodyguard. “You’re… not gonna go for it?” he said, seeming genuinely confused. “Why _not?”_

Roadhog would have been able to list reasons _why not_ for days. Pretend for a moment that he didn’t manage to get rid of this newfound… attachment. That he embraced the sogginess. And pretend that somehow, through some unfathomable twist of fate and bad judgement, Mercy would hold the _smidge of an inkling_ of affection towards him -

He would be the worst thing that would ever happen to her.

‘The one-man apocalypse’ was a very fitting nickname for him, because he ruined everything he touched. Being in a relationship with _him_ wasn’t something he would wish for his worst enemy, and definitely not for someone he actually wanted _good things_ to happen to.

Not for someone who looked at him like that.

“Because,” he summarized. 

“That’s, uh… care to elaborate?” 

Roadhog sighed. He got up on his feet, collecting his pillow and blanket under one arm. Junkrat immediately bolted upright in bed, giving him a suspicious look. “Where you goin’?”

“Gonna sleep in the common room,” Roadhog mumbled as he walked over to the door, picking up his mask on the way.

“You’re leaving me alone?” Junkrat squeaked. “What the hell kinda bodyguard are you!?”

 _The kind that needs a good nights sleep,_ Roadhog thought, but he answered slowly:  
“We’re in the middle of an Overwatch compound. I think you’re safe.”

“Could be an inside job,” Junkrat glared at him. “What if you get here tomorrow and find me dead with a piece of ice poking out from between my eyes?"

Roadhog was quiet for a moment as his exhausted brain tried to follow Junkrat’s train of thought. It wasn’t easy, since it probably had gone off the tracks a long time ago.  
“Mei.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re worried _Mei_ will kill you in your sleep.”

“Well, not really, no,” Junkrat admitted. “But you can never be _too_ careful, y’know? Always giving me the stink-eye when we’re out and about.”

“The girl who cried at the penguin movie.”

“It was just an example!” Junkrat snapped. “ _Christ!_ Fine, _leave_ , ya dipshit. But if I die you can forget about getting any help with the surprise dinner!”

Roadhog stood silent for a moment, like he was actually deliberating whether or not it would be worth losing Junkrat’s help. “I’ll take that chance,” he finally said and walked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a bit more mopey than I originally intended, but you know... late night introspection.


	3. No Pun Intended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's too early in the morning for shitty puns, but not everyone got the memo.

Roadhog woke himself up with a deep, rumbling cough. For a moment he didn’t recognize the unfamiliar light in the room, and then he looked out over the big room lined with tables, couches and a big monitor in the middle, and remembered his escape to the common room the night before. He sat up on the couch which creaked slightly under his weight, leaning forward with his elbows resting against his knees until the coughing fit had passed and his breathing had returned to regular.

The sunlight was filtering in through the blinds; going from the low angle of the beams it was probably early. Roadhog just sat there for a moment, letting his head clear a bit. He had slept in his regular overall since he couldn’t be bothered with actual sleepwear - having a set of clothes that you only used at night seemed like a waste - and he felt vulnerable when sleeping in the nude. He had left his shoes, gear and tire armor in their quarters, and his shotgun, of course.

Waking up and not immediately feeling the need to reach for his gun, it was –  
It was not a bad thing. Maybe in the future he would even start leaving it in the armory.

A surprised grunt from the nearby door made him look up. Winston had entered, clearly a bit baffled at finding the common room already occupied. “Good morning?” the big ape said, framing it more like a question than a greeting.

“Morning,” Roadhog mumbled back.

“So, uh,” Winston looked around the room, almost like he was searching for clues why the Australian enforcer had taken residency on the couch.  
“I take it you slept here tonight?”

Roadhog was quiet for a moment, turning his gaze towards the gorilla. Winston evidently didn’t share his opinion on sleepwear, since he was wearing a large white T-shirt and a pair of blue-and-white-striped boxers. Why would a gorilla wear clothes. He had fur. It made no sense. Winston had started to squirm a bit, glancing over his shoulder like he wanted to back out of the room again. Roadhog realized he should probably answer. “Rat was being a pain in the ass,” he grumbled as he got up on his bare feet, leaving the blanket and pillow crumpled on the couch behind. Time to go find some breakfast.

“Oh, alright,” Winston said with a nod, and then fell in next to him as he headed for the kitchen. They walked in silence for a moment while the gorilla chewed on his lower lip like he wanted to say something. “We can find you separate accommodations if you want to," Winston finally offered. "With you two, Pharah and Zarya joining at the same time we ended up a bit more cramped than expected, but I think we have an empty storage room that can be repurposed if – “

“It’s fine,” Roadhog rasped.

“I… I see.”

The last part of the walk was silent.

______________________________________

When they entered the kitchen Roadhog ground to a halt. Mercy was seated next to the central kitchen island, dressed in a white pyjama with her hair tied up in a loose bun, engrossed in a book in front of her. She had a still steaming teacup and a bowl with what looked like milk and oatmeal next to the book.

“Good morning, Mercy,” Winston greeted.

“Guten morgen,” she said, giving them a short courteous smile before diving back into her book.

Before Roadhog had time to reflect on what he was doing he had lifted his hand in a small wave. “Guten morgen,” he echoed, the foreign words feeling clumsy in his mouth.

Mercy looked up at him again, a perplex look on her face. Roadhog had never been so grateful he was wearing a mask. Even though it felt like his entire body had atrophied he slowly forced his hand down to his side again, trying to make the movement as casual as possible.  
Maybe he wasn’t so hungry, after all. He briefly pondered if he should just silently back out of the kitchen and come back later, but just the thought of leaving without food made his stomach grumble with protest. No, that was ridiculous. This was all ridiculous and he needed _snap out of it._

After gathering himself he stepped in behind the kitchen counter and started to rummage through the fridge and cupboards after ingredients, his back turned towards Mercy. Winston had managed to find a jar of peanut butter and seemed perfectly content. Roadhog worked in silence for a moment, building a large heap of sandwiches. It was actually… _comfortable._ Peaceful, even.

“There should still be some hot water on the stove,” Mercy said as he stretched after the tea jar, and he only tensed up for a second.

“Thanks,” he mumbled while leafing through the teabags. Finally he loaded the tea and the small mountain of sandwiches on a tray and fetched a cup of cold boba tea from the fridge. He steered towards the door, feeling relieved that everything had gone relatively smoothly - and ended up face-to-face with a bleary-eyed Junkrat.

“You survived the night,” Roadhog observed.

“No thanks to _you,_ traitor” his boss muttered, stretching to his full length before cracking his neck loudly.

“Got breakfast” Roadhog said, holding out the tray in front of him. Junkrat perked up at the peace offering, but then he caught sight of Mercy next to the kitchen island. His eyes widened with interest and he looked up at Roadhog with a mischievous smile. “What, you in a hurry, mate? Think I'm gonna stick around for a while. Do a bit of _team building._ ”

He quickly ducked past Roadhog, who still was holding the tray and couldn’t do much to stop him. " _Fawkes,_ " Roadhog grumbled, but his boss ignored the warning and limped over to the doctor, craning his neck over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the book in front of her. “What’cha readin’?”

She looked up, a bit taken aback by his sudden appearance. A hunched-over, grimy junker with little to no concept of personal space tended to have that effect on people. “Oh, this? Just a brief study on neurological scarring.”

“Nice, nice…” the junker said absentmindedly, turning his attention towards the oatmeal and tea in front of her. “Oh, most important meal of the day, right doc?”

"Some nutritionists would disagree, but if I don’t get my breakfast my entire day will be absolutely _ruined,_ so… yes,” she answered with a look that was both amused and a bit curious, like she was trying to figure out where he was going with all this.

The wiry man weighed to and fro on his foot and pegleg, then looked up towards Roadhog with eyes wide open like he just had had a sudden revelation. “Oi, Hog!” he yelled across the room. “You like tea, don’tcha?” Roadhog just grunted, giving Rat a filthy look that he probably couldn't even see through the mask. Junkrat kept staring at him expectantly, like he was waiting for the older man to elaborate. When that didn’t happen he cleared his throat and continued: “Yeeeah… huge fan of tea, Hog is…”

The silence seemed to stretch out forever. Junkrat’s encouraging looks grew more and more despondent as he realized Roadhog wasn’t going to bite. Finally he shook his head and started to limp back towards the door with a muttered: “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Alright?” Mercy gave him a quizzical look as he left.

Roadhog was more than ready to get them both out of the kitchen, but when he turned towards the door another member of the team was blocking it. This time it was Tracer, wearing black shorts and an orange t-shirt under her chronal accelerator. “Hiya!” she greeted as she entered the kitchen. “You guys know who left their blanket on the couch?”

Winston gestured with a thumb towards Roadhog, who let out a loud, dejected sigh. It started to feel like he would never make it out of the kitchen alive. Tracer gave him a concerned look. “Something the matter, big guy?” she asked, and when he didn’t answer right away she continued: “Don’t tell me you’re feeling a bit _down under.”_

Junkrat erupted in loud, almost frenzied giggling, making the rest of the room turn their heads towards him. The junker covered his mouth with one hand, but kept grinning. “Heh… good one, mate!”

Tracer beamed at Junkrat, obviously stoked that her joke had gotten such a reaction out of him. She looked up at Roadhog, probably to see if he was in on the joke, so he mumbled a single: “Ha.” She gave him a playful wink, and then put on a mock serious expression when turning back to Junkrat. “But you have to let us know if he’s _hogging_ all the blankets!”

Junkrat doubled over with laughter. Out of the corner of his eye Roadhog could see Winston and Mercy exchange amused looks. Junkrat gasped for air, then looked up at Roadhog with a sudden triumphant expression that the older man didn’t like, not one bit. “Now that ya mention it… I think my buddy’s a bit sad!” The junker grinned fiercely at Tracer, who didn’t immediately respond to the obvious setup. “Ask me why he’s sad,” Junkrat mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, still grinning.

“Oh! Okay,” Tracer said, a bit taken aback. But she quickly recovered and asked: “Why is he sad?”

“’Cause he’s _mercyless!”_ Junkrat yelled before doubling over again, howling with laughter. The three Overwatch members looked at the frantically laughing man with confused expressions, obviously not getting the joke. They got even more confused as Roadhog brusquely grabbed Junkrat’s harness and dragged him out of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This will be a short one," she said. "Just a quick little thing about breakfast," she said.


	4. We're All Criminals Now

“Get _down here,_ ” Roadhog rumbled, pointing down to the grassy ground in front of him.

Junkrat, well out of reach, peered down at him from over the edge of the metal water cistern. “Have ya grown a sense of humor yet?” he asked, squinting with suspicion.

Roadhog just growled.

“…think I’m gonna hang out up here for a while,” his boss said and leaned back on the cistern roof, nonchalantly crossing his peg leg over his good knee. 

Roadhog forced himself to close his eyes and take a couple of deep breaths. He should probably leave before he did something _stupid,_ like wrecking the sole source of drinking water at the Overwatch base. “I’ll come back for you _later,_ ” he said, his hostile tone clearly showing that this was a threat, not a courtesy. Junkrat just waved cheerily at him as he left.

He needed to go and put his hands to work with something _right now._

As he entered the compound again he took a moment to reflect on why he’d gotten so mad. Usually he would just brush off Junkrat’s antics, and it would take a lot more than some teasing to get him angry. He guessed it could have something to do with his… situation. He had a growing suspicion that his newfound weakness was peeling off the protective thick skin he’d encased himself in over the years. And he hated looking like a fool in front of ( _her,_ his mind insisted, but he made an effort to shut it down) _the rest of the team._

This insight into his own mind didn’t exactly make him feel better – if anything it just made his already foul mood even fouler. Or maybe it was all because he'd missed breakfast, the tray abandoned while he'd gone off hunting after Junkrat. That felt like a good reason.

By the time he’d entered his and Junkrat's shared room and gotten his gear in order he’d mostly managed to calm down. There was a familiarity in putting on his harness and the shoulder pads, in checking his shotgun to make sure no piece of scrap had accidentally gotten jammed up somewhere vital. Maybe he’d stop by the workshop later, Torbjörn had started saving any leftover metal filings and bent screws for him.

Suddenly a short note rang out from the room’s intercom, indicating that someone was about to make a station-wide announcement, and Winston’s polite voice followed shortly: “This is a message to all members of Overwatch currently present at the base. Please come to the debriefing room in twenty minutes.”

Roadhog perked up at the announcement. An actual mission would be a nice change of pace... it would maybe take his mind off things. Before he left the room he attached the chain and the mean-looking hook to his belt, the chain links making a satisfactory clinking sound as he pulled at it.  
Time to go retrieve his boss.

__________________

The debriefing room was a round, windowless space in the middle of the compound. Chairs had been arranged in a semi-circle facing three large screens that currently were showing a dark blue screensaver. The rest of the team stationed at the Gibraltar base had already arrived when he and Junkrat got there, except for Winston and Tracer. The room was buzzing with speculations.

The omnic and the cyborg where off somewhere in Nepal, thankfully. Roadhog couldn’t stand the duo. There were few things in this world he found as disturbing as an omnic acting like it had a _soul._ The old soldier and the Egyptian commando were also out on a mission, Roadhog hadn’t heard too much about where they were, though.

Junkrat draped his lanky body over a swivel chair near the back while Roadhog opted to lean against the wall next to him. From there they had a pretty good view of the entire room. Roadhog made a conscious effort to _not_ look in Mercy’s direction. He was aware of her, standing close to the middle of the room, laughing about something Lúcio had just said, but he forced himself to focus on something else. Literally _anything_ else.

He ended up listening to Torbjörn and Reinhardt as they discussed a possible upgrade to the finger joints of Reinhardt's armor. Riveting stuff. 

Roadhog felt a jab at his side and looked down, where Junkrat had leaned forward in his swivel chair and nudged him with a sharp elbow. The junker grinned up at him. “Lookin’ forward to the mission, Roadie?”

Roadhog answered with a noncommittal grunt, and Junkrat rolled his eyes. “Oh, _come on._ You gonna drag _me_ around with that big hook o' yours and then tell me you're not antsy as hell? You need to get out and stretch your legs, mate. Knock some heads together, shoot someone’s face off –“ he caught Reinhardt’s disapproving glare – “ _heroically,_ of course. Can’t forget we're the good guys now, ‘mirite?”

Reinhardt scoffed loudly, turning a few heads his way.

“What?” Junkrat asked suspiciously.

Roadhog wished the old knight and his lack of an indoor voice would just ignore the junker, but no such luck.  
“I weep for what the world has come to,” Reinhardt boomed out in his thick German accent. “ _Back in my day_ we didn’t have thieves and thugs pretending to be heroes.”

Junkrat leaned back and nonchalantly scratched his own stomach. “Oh, right. Forgot about us being _hardened criminals_ and all that.” He casually inspected the flakes of soot that had gathered under his fingernails before glancing up at Roadhog and winking. “At least we’re in good company, eh, Hog?”

The other conversations in the room had all died down. Roadhog had gotten quite proficient at telling when his boss was baiting someone, and he inwardly sighed as Junkrat gave Reinhardt a wicked grin and said: “…or did someone go and make Overwatch _legal_ again when I wasn’t looking?”

The old man’s cheeks went red, and he stood up so suddenly that his swivel chair crashed into the wall behind him. “If you _for a moment_ try to compare our cause to your _greedy crimes_ –“

Without a word Roadhog stepped in between them, so close to Reinhardt that his tattooed gut almost touched the older man’s stomach. The tension in the room had gotten so thick you could cut it with a knife, and the only sound was his own rasping but steady breathing. The older German was the only person Roadhog had ever met who was tall enough to meet him face-to-face… or face-to-mask, in this case. Roadhog’s glassy stare was usually enough to get people to back off, but Reinhardt seemed to lack the capacity to be intimidated.

Reinhardt puffed out his chest even further. The look in his good eye was hard as steel and there was a clear challenge in his voice as he boomed: “Ahh, are you looking to go a _second round?_ ”

Junkrat snickered behind him at Reinhardt’s choice of words, but Roadhog knew what the old man referred to. During their first meeting, when Overwatch had showed up to put an end to the Australian duo’s crime spree, Roadhog had ended up getting pinned against a wall.  
Roadhog hadn’t been looking to cause a scene, but he _definitely_ wasn’t going to be the first to back down, and his voice was low and threatening as he rumbled: “ _Try me._ ” 

Suddenly a blond ponytail appeared at the bottom of his field of vision and he could feel a steady pressure on his chest. Mercy had walked up between them, placing one hand on Roadhog’s tire armor and one on Reinhardt’s broad chest. “That’s enough, you two,” she said, glaring first up at Roadhog and then at Reinhardt. “Are you going to act like your age or will I have to send you to stand in the corner?”

Reinhardt didn’t back down, his one functioning eye still locked at Roadhog’s mask. “I _will not_ have slander from two thieves who are only looking to fill their pockets!”

“Be that as it may, they are here to _help,_ ” she said sternly, and Roadhog _hated_ the sudden shiver that ran down his spine.

The enforcer and the knight shared one last hard look before they both backed down. Reinhardt pulled back his chair, sat down on it and demonstratively crossed his arms in front of him. “Hah! If I ever need help robbing a bank I know _exactly_ where to turn.”

“Why not just bust it open with your –“ Junkrat began, but he stopped when Mercy directed her icy glare towards him. The junker visibly shrunk down in his seat but couldn’t resist whispering: “… _head,_ ” after the doctor had turned around and returned to her seat.

The room’s automatic door opened and Winston and Tracer entered. They were both wearing their usual uniforms, Tracer in her orange tights and bomber jacket and Winston in his white armor. The gorilla seemed to notice that the mood in the room was unusually quiet and tense, and he gave them all an apologetic look. “Sorry we’re late, we just needed to clear up a few details with Pharah,” he said while pushing his glasses further up on his short nose. “I’ll get right to it. Athena…?”

The screens behind him blinked to life, the middle one showing a world map in light blue against the dark background. A blinking red dot was situated somewhere above Europe.  
“Earlier today we got a report from Soldier 76 and Pharah. A few days ago they managed to hide a tracker in a shipment of Talon weapons, and the crate has finally arrived at a location in the outskirts of Munich.”

“My old stomping grounds!” Reinhardt exclaimed, rubbing his hands in front of him.

Winston nodded before continuing. “They believe the location is a Talon hub for collecting and distributing weapons. We don’t know the exact amount of shipments passing through, but Athena has calculated that if we strike it there’s a chance we would _severely_ damage their operations.”

“Excellent,” Mercy smiled. “Less gunshot wounds for me to patch up. I might finally get a chance to catch up with my reading…”

“Yes. We need a small group to travel there incognito,” Winston explained. “The area is heavily populated and we can’t exactly just park the dropship on the German countryside, so we need to find an alternative means of transport. The group will meet up with our two agents in the field, breach Talon’s defenses, seize the weapons and any information that can lead to more Talon bases.”

Roadhog sighed and leaned back. Heavily populated area, small group, _incognito…_ sounded like he and Rat would have to sit this one out. Too bad. 

“Easy peasy,” Tracer chirped in. “Zip in, kick some Talon butt, zip out. There’s just a _tiny_ complication.”

Winston nodded. “That’s why Pharah just contacted us. The building with the weapon stash seems to be heavily fortified.”

“ _How_ heavily?” Mercy asked, frowning slightly.

“ _Very._ " Winston hesitated before continuing: “We… kind of need to break into a bank.”

Junkrat let out a gentle gasp.

Winston cleared his throat, a bit taken aback by the team’s shocked silence. “I know it’s a bit unorthodox. The building has been abandoned since the Crisis, but the structure is apparently still intact…” He looked over at the two junkers. “I don't really have much expertise in the area, so... do you think that sounds doable?”

Roadhog glanced to his side, where his boss was visibly vibrating with excitement. Roadhog slowly nodded and rumbled: “I think we can manage it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? In _my_ fanfic? It’s more likely than you think.
> 
> Reinhardt is a sweet old man and I love him very much but tbh I can’t imagine this knight in shining armor and two outlaws getting along very well.
> 
> My overwatch blog: over-trash.tumblr.com


	5. Big Goddamn Heroes

“But why do _I_ have to be the getaway driver?” Winston protested.

Junkrat sighed and rolled his eyes, like the gorilla scientist had asked the most inane question possible, and then splayed out his hand on his own chest in a theatrical gesture.  
“ ’Cause _I’m_ gonna blow it up, so I definitely need to be there.” He gestured towards Roadhog, Reinhardt and Tracer – “And _they’re_ gonna watch my back while I do it…” – then towards Mercy – “… _she’s_ gonna patch us up if things go south…” – then towards Pharah – “… _she’s_ keeping lookout outside…” – and finally towards Soldier 76. “…and _he’s_ … now what were you gonna do, again?”

“I’m in charge of this operation,” the old vigilante said, his red visor one of the few light sources inside of the dark truck they were currently occupying, except from the illumination from the computer screens.

“Right. That."

Winston still looked far from convinced.  
“Do we really _need_ a getaway driver?”

“Who’s the bankrobbing expert here, you or me?”

“You,” Winston admitted. “But technically this isn’t a bank anymore. And, as I have repeatedly stated, we are not _robbing_ it. We are _infiltrating_ it.”

“With bombs,” Junkrat pointed out.

Winston sighed.  
“It’s just… you all need to be careful in there. We don’t know what kinds of defenses they have set up, or how many of them there are...”

“Chin up, big guy,” Tracer said with a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Guarding the truck and Athena is important! Do you think a group of shoddy Talon goons will get the better of _us?_ They won’t know what hit them!”

Winston smiled, but he still seemed a bit worried. He wasn’t the only one. From what Roadhog could see it was only Tracer and Junkrat who were in high spirit. He had yet to see something bring Tracer’s boundless energy down, and this mission would give Junkrat the opportunity to both blow stuff up _and_ boss people around, so it was no surprise that the junker was downright giddy.

The other Overwatch members didn’t seem to share Junkrat’s enthusiasm. Reinhardt looked like a storm cloud, which might have had something to do with Junkrat giving him unsolicited advice on how to blow up bank vaults during the flight to Germany. The Egyptian woman with the armor and rocket launcher had joined them at the same time as the gruff old man with the face mask, and they both seemed focused on the mission. Typical military types.

For some reason Mercy seemed tense as well; a frown creased her forehead and her lips were drawn tight together. It could be nerves, but Roadhog had never seen her anxious before a battle. Usually she would offer some words of caution before a scuffle, but not tonight. She had been very quiet.

The old, white-haired soldier looked over at the computer terminal that took up almost one entire side of the interior of the truck.  
“Athena, how are we doing with the security cams?”

“Security channel identified,” the synthesized female voice answered. “I have spotted eight cameras surrounding the building and twelve inside of it, and I’m ready to start the looped footage.”

“Got it.” Soldier turned around to the rest of the team. “Get your gear ready. We leave in five.”

“I would like to remind you that I have been unable to breach the defense around the vault area,” the computer continued. "I recommend caution." Roadhog felt a shiver running down his spine. He didn’t like when the computer acted proactively and talked without being talked to. It was unsettling, like it was trying to act like a human.

Soldier 76 just nodded while getting his pulse rifle ready.  
“Yeah, we know, Athena. Thanks.”

Roadhog checked his gear one last time. Everything seemed to be in order. While waiting for the rest of their team to get their preparations done he glanced at Mercy, who was standing at the other end of the truck. She was silently checking her sidearm and had the same serious, almost grave expression she had had since the morning's meeting at the headquarters.

Roadhog suddenly felt stared at. He looked down and saw Junkrat standing there, looking at him with a knowing, impish expression that was somehow even more annoying than his usual chatter.

 _”What?”_ Roadhog grunted.

“Nothing,” Junkrat said with feigned innocence, but he was still unable to keep that shit-eating grin off his face. “Ready to go out and be a _big goddamn hero,_ Hog? _Save the day_ and all that?”

“No.”

“Lies.”

With a clanking sound Soldier pulled the backdoor of the truck open.  
“Athena, we’re moving out. Wait until we're in position, then start the loop.”

“Affirmative,” the female computer answered.

Roadhog’s boots hit the ground with a low thud. While the rest of the team exited the truck he let his eyes sweep over the dark street, trying to spot any movement. Nothing.

Munich had been hit hard during the Omnic crisis, and what had once been an expanding picturesque city surrounded by mountains had in many areas been reduced to rubble. While the city centre had gone through a sudden growth spurt after the crisis and gleaming, shining high rises towered over the historical buildings left after the war, many areas in the outskirts had been abandoned. The former commercial area they were currently in didn’t even have functioning streetlights.

They had parked a block away from the bank. Roadhog looked back at the vehicle. On the outside it looked just like a regular truck, slightly worn down, with the name of some German soda brand printed on the side. Reinhardt was the last to leave the truck - he hit the ground with a loud, metallic _clang._ Roadhog felt a sudden annoyance. Why had they brought the least stealthy man on the planet to an, with Winston's own words, _infiltration_ mission? They might as well just drive up to the entrance and start banging pots together.

Pharah adjusted her helmet and faced the rest of the team.  
“I’m taking off. I will stick to the rooftops and let you know if there's any trouble.”

“Be careful out there,” Mercy cautioned her. “I’ll be inside, so it’ll be hard for me to reach you.”

Pharah nodded, and her rocket booster painted a bright streak through the night as she disappeared up over the nearest rooftop.

The rest of the group continued their trek through the worn-down alley. Reinhardt, Soldier and Mercy had taken the lead, while Tracer had fallen in back with Junkrat and Roadhog. She turned towards them and smiled.  
“I hope this trip won’t make you fall back to your wicked ways?” she teased.

“As if,” Junkrat scoffed. “Don’t wanna give old knightface over there the satisfaction of saying ‘I told you so’. ‘Sides, Talon’s got nothing _fun_ to steal.”

“Uh- _huh,_ ” Tracer said. “So… is this how you guys usually do it? I don’t remember a getaway driver when we caught you…”

Junkrat shook his head and hoisted the bag of explosives further up on his shoulder. “Nah, usually we don’t plan _this_ far ahead,” he admitted. “I’d throw in a couple of ‘nades to sort of test the water, Roadhog would throw around some security fellas, then we’d grab as much as we could carry and hoof it.”

Tracer frowned.  
“How on Earth did it take so long for anyone to stop you?!”

Junkrat just shrugged.

While Tracer started to pepper Junkrat with questions about the police's inability to pin down two Australian junkers only armed with explosives, bear traps and a shotgun, Roadhog noticed that Mercy had fallen a bit behind. Instead of her usual brisk pace she was walking slowly among the piles of rubble. For a moment he wondered if he should slow down his own pace so _he_ would fall behind and not catch up to her, but realized that he was overthinking it, and now it was too late anyway, since they were walking side by side.

Not that she seemed to have noticed him. She wasn't looking in his direction, and from what he could see she had the same tense expression from before. The best thing would probably be to just keep walking in silence. She was probably focusing on the mission ahead of them, and he should do the same.

“It’s dark out here,” he suddenly heard his mouth say. Fucking _traitor._

She looked up at him with a perplex expression, like she hadn’t expected a conversation.  
“Yes, it’s… night,” she answered with one raised eyebrow.

“Yep,” he agreed, mentally giving himself a slap for not keeping his mouth shut. _This_ was why he didn’t do small talk. He found himself fervently wishing that the team would walk faster so they just could arrive at the bank already.

“It's hard to say what did the most damage here,” Mercy suddenly said, running one hand over the bullet holes in the wall she was walking beside. “The omnics or the looters.”

Roadhog didn’t know how to answer that, so he stayed quiet.

Mercy continued in a low voice, like she was mostly talking for herself.  
“I heard Munich was getting back on its feet, but apparently some areas have a lower priority than others. I would have thought they would’ve repaired all the ruins by now… but I guess some places will never recover.”

She suddenly got a shocked expression on her face and looked over at Roadhog.  
“That... that came out wrong, I'm sorry.”

She almost sounded flustered. Why would she - oh. _Oh._ Did she think she had offended him by mourning over a ruined part of a city while the majority of _his_ home continent had been reduced to a radioactive heap of gravel?  
“It’s alright,” he mumbled. Because it was true. Some places would never recover, and there wasn’t really anything you could do about it. He didn't like thinking about _what ifs_ and _what could've beens_ \- there was nothing to be gained if you went down that road.

Soldier 76 motioned to them to stop as they reached the old, rusty chain link fence that surrounded the parking lot behind the bank. From the back the old bank seemed to be just as abandoned as its neighbour buildings, with its plaster façade marred by bullet holes and covered with years of accumulated dirt and dust. The dark windows only had empty frames left, with most of the glass laying shattered on the ground.

Winston’s mouthy computer program was probably doing that looping trick on the security cameras. Roadhog didn’t find the thought of that very assuring, since all it would take was for someone to peek out a window. The dark wasn’t much of a cover when half of the team insisted on wearing _lamps._ Hopefully Talon hadn't brought any snipers.

Soldier stepped up to the nearby chain link gate and forcefully smashed the old padlock with the stock of his rifle and the door swung up with a dragged-out squeak. After waiting for a moment to see if anyone inside of the building had noticed the noise he stepped into the parking lot. The rest of the team silently followed.

The abandoned cars were so old that some of them still had tires. There were some newer models too, but their cores had long since burned out and now they were resting on the ground, just like their predecessors. As they got closer Roadhog found himself wondering if they really were at the right place. The building was totally dark inside, and so far the only security they had faced had been a rusty old fence.

Soldier reached the metal back door first, lifting up his rifle to once again smash the padlock, and then he hesitated.  
"What?" Tracer whispered.

"This is new," Soldier mumbled, turning the silver padlock over in his hands. Then he held up his rifle against the lock like he intended to shoot it.

"Wait," Roadhog rumbled. "I got it." He walked up to the door and grabbed the lock. With a low grunt he pressed down on it, twisting it around until the shackle broke and the lock fell to the ground.

Tracer gave a low whistle, but Reinhardt seemed less impressed.  
"Yes, yes," he said dryly. "The thief knows how to break in, _truly astounding."_

Soldier went inside of the dark entrance room and looked around, his grip around his pulse rifle and his squared shoulders signalling that he just _dared_ Talon to try anything. When he was satisfied with the lack of resistance inside he backed out again.  
“Seems clear enough” he said in his low, gruff voice. ”Who knows what kind of Talon fuckery is going on inside, though.”

Reinhardt scoffed.  
_“I’ll_ go first,” he boomed, pounding his fist against his heavily armoured chest with a loud clang. “I’m not afraid of any cowardly _traps.”_

Soldier winced at the sound echoing through the dark parking lot.  
“No! You… uh, you go in last. Make sure we’re not ambushed.”

Reinhardt nodded. Soldier signalled towards Tracer and Roadhog.  
“You two take point with me.”

The inside was dark, even darker than it had been outside, and the only light source was the stars and the moon shining in through the broken windows and the areas where the roof had collapsed. Roadhog could hear a clunk behind him, and then a string of muttered swears. He turned around and glared at Junkrat, whose peg leg had gone through a broken-down chair on the floor. Junkrat immediately went quiet, drew his fingers across his mouth in a _zipping it_ motion and carefully lifted his leg out of the debris.

Soldier tried opening a heavy-looking door in front of them. When it wouldn’t budge he waved for Roadhog, who nodded, went up and placed his hand on the handle before pressing down with all his weight. He could feel the lock mechanism break with a load crack and pushed open the door. It hadn’t exactly been silent, but it was better than shooting it.

Inside of the room was the bank's cargo bay: a huge room with concrete pillars carrying a high, partially broken ceiling and a concrete ramp running along the entire interior. Just like the rest of the bank there were pieces of rubble all over the floor and some of the walls seemed to be on the verge of collapsing, but the interior of the cargo bay was lit up with dim, red emergency lights. Some of the vehicles inside were new, too: black, anonymous vehicles that stood in stark contrast against the rusty wrecks resting on the concrete floor.

Suddenly he could hear the sound of steps coming their way. He looked over at Soldier, who was looking in the same direction – he had heard it too. The old vigilante signalled to the rest of the team to not move and then slunk off to the left.

A Talon soldier, with their characteristic body armor and red-eyed helmets, walked out from behind a vehicle. He froze when he caught sight of the group of intruders by the door.  
“What the-?”  
He didn’t have time to finish the sentence, since Soldier in a single motion rushed out of the shadows and hit him over the head with the pulse rifle’s stock. The Talon soldier unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

“Athena?” Tracer whispered into the voice comm.

“The Talon forces are communicating on a closed channel, but they don’t seem to be aware of your presence,” came the cool synthesized voice into their earpieces. “There are cameras inside of the cargo bay, but I have them all under control.”

Roadhog looked up, but it was too dark to see the cameras she - _it_ \- was talking about. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of having to rely on an AI, but he had to admit it was kind of handy.

“Where’s the crates?” Soldier asked.

“The weapon crates should be in the underground vault, one level under the main building. There’s a maintenance corridor accessible from the cargo bay. The door is thirty meters to your left, against the northwest wall. It’s marked with the number seven.”

Roadhog frowned. Handy or not, the idea of a computer being able to pinpoint their exact whereabouts didn't sit right with him.

The team started making their way through the cargo bay. Junkrat caught up with Roadhog, his bag of explosives still hoisted up on his shoulder.  
“This has been _way_ to easy,” the younger junker hissed. “Don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

 _“Don’t,”_ Roadhog warned him.

Junkrat shrugged.  
“Just a bit disappointed is all. Kinda hoped Talon would’ve at least put up a-“

Suddenly an alarm drilled through the air, absolutely ear-splitting after the long silence. A door up on the meter-high concrete ramp flew open as black-clad, shouting Talon soldiers welled out into the cargo bay, assault rifles raised towards the intruders.

 _“-fight,”_ Junkrat finished as Roadhog grabbed his arm and pulled him in behind a nearby pile of rubble. The sound of automatic gunfire reverberated through the cavernous room and a storm of bullets ricocheted off the floor where he just had stood, sending a small cloud of dust into the air.

Soldier dove into cover beside them, and when he got up on his feet he groaned slightly in a way that betrayed his age. He readied his own pulse rifle and gave Junkrat a stern look through his visor.  
"Stay put," the old vigilante ordered. "We clear out this room, then we set the explosives."

Junkrat gave him a salute as the soldier stood up and ran to a nearby van, where he would have a better angle on the Talon mercs.

Roadhog looked out over the bay, trying to get an overlook of the battle. The Talon forces were still welling out of the open door, and he could see Tracer zipping around them, trying to get close enough to unload her rapid-fire guns without getting shot. A sudden, bright streak of light caught his attention as Mercy flew towards Soldier. Her shining, outstretched wings were breathtaking, but also _very, very bright_ in the dimly lit room. Roadhog noticed a Talon soldier following her trajectory with his assault rifle, and he stood up and threw out his hook. It caught the soldier around his waist, and with a loud yelp he was hauled straight into Roadhog's waiting shotgun.

Roadhog walked over the Talon soldier, looking for the next person to hook. For once he was probably a harder target to hit than the rest of the Overwatch teams, since he wasn't wearing any lights - unless the Talon mercs had some kind of night visors built into their helmets.

Suddenly an ear-splitting roaring sound tore through the night, drowning out even the sound of gunfire. It sounded like a small jet plane taking off, and it grew louder as the source of the sound came closer. Roadhog turned towards the sound and only had time to think _not again_ before Reinhardt and the unfortunate Talon soldier caught in his charge crashed into him. Roadhog’s feet lifted from the ground and for a moment the only thing that existed was the feeling of flying backwards at a mind-numbing speed.

The journey was suddenly and unceremoniously ended as the three of them crashed into a concrete wall on the other side of the room.

“My apologies! Are you unhurt?” the armored knight asked at the top of his lungs, as usual, while extending a helping hand towards Roadhog.

Roadhog gasped after breath and accepted the outstretched hand. It felt like the air refused to get down into his lungs. Still, he did a shaky thumbs up to show he was going to be okay, and then jammed a gas canister into his mask. The healing gas made it easier to breathe, and the ringing in his ears ceased.

At least he was better off than the Talon soldier who had been caught between the two men and had been reduced to a heap on the floor. Roadhog nudged the man with his boot and was met with a low whimper.

"Do you think he will get back up?" Reinhardt asked.

"Nah."

Reinhardt turned around to join the fray again, hammer ready. Roadhog followed him, in a slightly slower pace that wouldn't make his ribs protest. A series of explosions could be heard from overhead and a rain of plaster fell down from the ceiling – but it was the wrong kind of explosions, not the familiar kind. He looked over the cargo bay and realized he had lost track of Rat. Usually he was easy enough to find on a battlefield; you just needed to follow the sound of explosions and loud cackling.

For a moment Roadhog tried to convince himself that Junkrat had done the sensible thing and stayed behind cover, hiding until the commotion died down. Then he saw that door seven had swung open, showing the dark maintenance corridor inside. He sighed.

Reinhardt activated his shield to prevent them both from getting pierced by a sudden hail of bullets.

“What’s going on?” Winston asked in a panicky voice over the communication channel.

“We found the Talons,” Reinhardt said curtly. “Now we will _crush_ their pathetic defenses!”

“They have a squad on the roof,” came Pharah’s voice over the comm. “I’ll get rid of them and then join you inside.”

“Oh, _screw this!_ ” Winston shouted, and there was an unmistakable sound of a giant fist smashed against a keyboard. “Hold on! I’m coming in!”

“Not to worry, my friend,” Reinhardt assured him in his thick German accent. “This sad excuse for a mercenary band are no match for _us.”_

Suddenly the shadows in the furthest corner of the room seemed to pool together, coalescing into one dark, unmistakably human form.

The old knight slowed down to a stop.  
“This… this might be _a bit_ of a worry,” he admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so SO sorry about the delay. It's been a mix of school start, Overwatch, writer's block and this chapter being really hard for me to write. University, work and drawings is taking up a lot of my time, but I will try to update this regularly!
> 
> (Edit: Aaand I'm sorry to inform you that this chapter has gone through some extensive rewriting. I had so much trouble continuing the story since I didn't like the way some of the choices I made in this chapter, and the only way for me to continue was to go back to this chapter and do some heavy edits. I know it sucks, and I know the delay sucks, but I'm a really inexperienced writer and I'm struggling to get this story to go where I want it to go.)


	6. Fire in the Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mercy _has had it_ with stupid, overextending tanks.

For a moment the cargo bay was so silent you could hear a needle drop. The gunfire and shouting had died down, as if the dark figure with the skull mask had raised the stakes of the battle and the combatants needed a moment to adjust.

Roadhog was still standing in relative safety behind Reinhardt’s blue barrier field and used the momentary break to get an overlook of the fight. The Overwatch team had been holding their own, no-one had any visible injuries. Junkrat was still nowhere to be seen. Pharah was out of sight too. Mercy had ducked in behind the same van as Soldier, her eyes wide as she stared at the newcomer.

The Talons were worse off and had had some losses, but there were still at bunch of them huddling behind crates and piles of rubble. Their attention was also turned towards the hooded figure, probably waiting for some kind of order or sign.

He didn’t seem to be in a hurry, though. On the contrary; he seemed to enjoy the tension, nonchalantly walking across the cargo bay and leaning towards the railing. The emergency light glinted off the two shotguns visible under his black coat.  
_“You keep showing up where you’re not invited,”_ he noted in a low and gravelly voice.

Tracer peeked out from behind a broken-down, rusty van.  
“Just returning the favour,” she stated curtly, with an uncharacteristic lack of endearments. “You still owe Winston a new glass panel and some monitors, you know.”

Roadhog knew that Overwatch had had a few run-ins with this particular Talon operative in the past - Reaper, if he remembered correctly. Winston had warned them about him during a debriefing. _Be careful around him,_ the gorilla had said. _Don’t engage unless you have to._

He glanced over his shoulder in case the Overwatch team decided to call for retreat. The quickest way out was probably straight through the huge cargo bay doors behind them. He doubted the mechanized door opener worked anymore – they would probably have to break their way out. Roadhog wasn’t the one calling the shots, though. Soldier 76 hadn’t moved from his position behind the van since the Reaper had shown up, his face unreadable under the mask.

“Oi!” Junkrat’s shrill voice suddenly came crackling in over the voice comm, breaking the tension. He sounded out of breath. “Change of plans! Get ready for some _fireworks!”_

Over the comm Roadhog could hear the familiar, uneven clatter of Rat’s peg leg against concrete, accompanied by heavy boots and angry shouts in the background.

Soldier 76 responded “I told you to stay put until we had secured the area!” at the same time as Roadhog pressed his comm and bellowed “Get out of there! NOW!”

“Now or never,” Junkrat chattered hectically over the coms. “Not sure if it’s gonna bust open the vault but it’ll have to do, _three-two-one BOOM!”_

The entire room suddenly shook with a series of powerful explosions that seemed to originate somewhere under them, down in the building's foundation. The sound wasn’t as deafening as Roadhog was used to because of the thick walls and floors between him and the source of the explosion, but the shock was powerful enough to send the combatants in the cargo bay tumbling to their feet. One section of the heavy ceiling broke off, nearly crushing a Talon soldier who managed to roll out of the way in the last second with a very unprofessional shriek.

Roadhog got up on his feet, thankful for the mask protecting his eyes and lungs from the thick dust raining down from the ceiling. No time to stop and help the Reinhardt, who was swearing loudly in German while struggling to get upright in his heavy suit of armor – Roadhog needed to find his way underground as soon as possible. The Overwatch team would have to do without him while he retrieved his boss.

At least Junkrat hadn’t managed to blow himself up, if the triumphant, joyous hooting over the voice comm was anything to go on.

Reaper had also lost his balance after the explosion and was, like everything else in the room, covered with a thick layer of dust and grit, which made him slightly less intimidating. He had gotten up on his feet and drew his both shotguns while giving the remaining Talon soldiers an annoyed glare.  
“What are you waiting for? _Get them,”_ he growled, as a second smaller explosion went off underground, causing a low rumble and making a nearby part of the wall collapse. The Talon agents quickly scrambled to get their weapons in order, and then it didn’t take long until bullets were whizzing through the air again.

Athena suddenly came in over their voice comms, her voice sounding slightly alarmed.  
“Local authorities are aware of the explosions. Estimated time until their arrival: fourteen minutes.”

Two Talon agents had managed to gather their bearings and got in Roadhog’s way, raising their assault rifles towards him. He didn’t even slow down, he just grabbed them both and unceremoniously knocked their heads together before stepping over them.

He grunted with annoyance. He was a big target out in the open, but he didn’t have time to duck in behind a crate and fight over cover like the rest of the Overwatch team. Well, most of the Overwatch team – Roadhog saw Tracer blink past him, in behind three grouped-up Talon soldiers, and then away again. They didn’t have time to react to the ticking bomb she had left among them and were sent sprawling by the explosion.

Suddenly a sharp pain shot through his right arm. Roadhog grumbled and looked down – blood was streaming out from a bullet wound above his elbow. He ignored the pain and tried to lift his arm, but his movement felt sluggish and he could feel his finger loosen around the shotgun’s grip. The guy who had shot him was still aiming right at him, so Roadhog threw out his hook with his unharmed arm. It hit him square in the face, the force enough to knock the Talon soldier to the ground.

Suddenly he heard a shout to the left of him.  
_"Duck!"_

He turned left and his field of vision was filled with yellow, shining wings. Two slender hands pushed against him, and when he looked down he realized Mercy was attempting - and failing - to push him into cover. Now both of them were out in the open. Roadhog stepped in behind a partially collapsed wall and she quickly followed him.

He tried to crane his neck to look around the corner but she forcefully placed her hands on his chest and pressed him back against the wall.  
_"Don't move,"_ she ordered in a stern, almost fierce, voice.

He stood absolutely still.

Mercy looked over the gunshot wound with a concentrated look on her face before pressing her hand against his arm, ignoring the blood that was staining her gloves.  
"Raise your hand and flex your fingers."  
He did so, feeling a sharp pain running through his arm, and she let out an exasperated sigh and activated her medical staff. Roadhog felt the warm light surround him. It felt both soothing and disturbing, as if he had been tucked into a warm blanket but his arm had fallen asleep. As he watched, the blood stopped flowing from the wound and the deep wound got shallower, as if it was going through days of healing in an instant.

The gunfire, shotguns and shouts in the background had been reduced to background noise. Mercy stopped before the wound was fully healed, but the pain was mostly gone and the strength had returned to his arm. He cautiously closed his hand into a fist and opened it again.  
"Thanks," he said, but she didn't answer at first. Instead she quickly looked out over the battlefield, and since she didn't seem to be acutely needed elsewhere she turned back to Roadhog.

"I've stopped the blood flow and tried to prevent nerve damage," she said curtly. "I'll remove the bullet when we get back to the headquarters, but until then you will have to walk around with it stuck in your arm."

"Wouldn't be the first," Roadhog answered, and she actually _thwacked him over his healthy arm with her staff._ He looked down at her, dumbfounded.

"This is serious!" she snapped. "Don't stand out in the open like that! It's unnecessary, dangerous, and the next time you might not be able to walk away from it!"

Roadhog resisted the urge to squirm. She was still standing in front of him, glaring at him, like she was _expecting_ something from him.  
"...Sorry?" he tried. "Was just gonna go get Rat before he does something stupid."

Another explosion reverberated through the building.  
"Stupid _er_ ," Roadhog corrected himself.

Mercy's stern expression softened a bit.  
"Yes, do that. Just... please be more cautious in the future. Don't catch any bullets you don't have to, okay?"

"...Yeah."

A sudden scream tore through the cargo bay as a Talon soldier fell down from a hole in the ceiling and landed a couple of feet away from them. He was followed by Pharah, who began to hover just under the ceiling. Mercy looked over at Roadhog, gave him a brief nod and then fluttered up towards the newcomer.

"Five minutes," Athena cautioned.

Roadhog began making his way towards door seven again, this time choosing a more protected path. He ducked in behind a pillar and was stopped by a hail of bullets whizzing through the air in front of him. Since he was stuck behind the pillar until the Talon soldiers had to reload he took the time to try and reach Junkrat over the comm.

"Rat?"

"Hog!" Junkrat exclaimed happily. Roadhog could hear another explosion, both in his earpiece and in the cargo bay.

"What's going on down there?" Roadhog asked. On the other side of the pillar Reinhardt came crashing into the Talon soldiers, hammer swinging, and they ceased shooting in favour of running and screaming. Roadhog advanced from the pillar towards the next piece of cover.

"I dropped the rest of my bombs on the ground behind me and these poor sods keeps running into them. Would be sad if it wasn't so funny."

"If you manage to bury yourself I'm not gonna dig you up," Roadhog warned him.

It was a relief that Junkrat seemed to have the situation relatively under control, but something else caught his attention. Soldier 76 had left cover and was standing with his back against the wall, cornered. He had his pulse rifle in a firm grip, but he wasn't aiming or firing at anyone - instead his attention was firmly placed on Reaper, who was walking towards him with heavy, resolute steps.  
"Gotta go," Roadhog finished before shutting down the call.

He was the only one close enough to reach the Talon leader and the vigilante, but neither of them seemed to have noticed him, even though he was close enough to hear the Reaper's raspy voice.  
_“Long time no see.”_

That's when the roar of an engine tore through the air followed by a loud crash as Winston drove the hovering truck into the cargo bay, sending pieces of garage door flying into the room. The gorilla opened the door to the driver's seat and jumped out, trying to get a read on the situation.

The crash had gotten everyone's attention - even Reaper was looking up at the sudden commotion. During a brief second Roadhog realized that they might not get another opportunity like this. He didn't exactly think it through, he just reacted. His hook connected with a _thud_ , and he yanked the masked Talon leader away from Soldier while readying his shotgun.

He fired a blast of scrap metal at almost point-blank, but instead of burying itself into the Reaper the shrapnel just passed _through_ him. The hooded man seemed to dissipate in front of Roadhog's eyes, turning into dark smoke that pooled onto the floor and swirled around his feet. By now he began to suspect he had probably made a mistake. This was confirmed as he began to turn around and realized that Reaper has gathered _behind_ him - yep, definitely a mistake.

The two shotguns fired, once, twice. White-hot pain shot through him as the bullets tore through his skin and flesh, and blood started to pour - too much of it. He dropped his shotgun and pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but his thoughts were already turning fuzzy and his knees buckled under him.

Everything went dark and he hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry about this delay. I suck. I suck _so hard_ you guys. But I feel a lot better about this story after rewriting the last chapter! Also sorry things took a turn for the dark but at least I have the next chapter half done already so there won't be such a long wait!


	7. Okay Then

He was slowly becoming aware of his surroundings, which were so was dark and quiet it took a while for him to notice the difference between opening and closing his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling above him.

This wasn’t the first time he had passed out from blood loss. Usually he felt shitty and disoriented afterwards, but even though his injuries had been a real doozy this time they didn’t hurt anymore. He felt weak and tired, but otherwise alright.

After staring at the ceiling for a while he turned his head to the side and confirmed that he was in the Overwatch med bay. The room was dark; it had no windows since that part of the headquarters was located deep inside of the Gibraltar rock, but the light fixtures had been turned down to the minimum.

He could hear a loud, familiar snoring from the other side of the small room.

Roadhog tried to sit up straight but his body didn’t immediately respond like it should, and after his first attempt he fell back weakly against the pillow. He groaned and tried again, this time using his arms for leverage. After he had managed to get up into a sitting position he looked down and noticed he was wearing a large white t-shirt with the Overwatch logo in grey across his chest.

He looked around for the source of the snoring and caught sight of Junkrat’s lanky figure slumped over a recliner next to the door. It looked like an uncomfortable position; his legs were dangling over one armrest and his face was pressed against the upholstery, but Roadhog knew Junkrat could (and had, on multiple occasions) sleep on a rock if he needed to.

Junkrat looked uncharacteristically clean. Probably some sort of med bay protocol, or maybe after the events at the bank he had exceeded the limit of how much gunk and soot he could be covered in before he would voluntarily take a shower. He was bundled up in a grey, anonymous blanket that looked like it belonged to the med bay.

Roadhog let out a sigh. Losing track of his partner in crime during a dangerous fight always made him antsy, so it was a bit of a relief to see that Junkrat had made it out in one piece. The younger junker had somehow managed to survive on his own in the Outback and could usually take care of himself during a scrap, but he _always_ had to go and do some kind of stupid and unpredictable shit. At least running away on his own to set up some explosives hadn't been as bad as, say, flinging himself into a group of eight British cops, hoping that the _element of surprise_ would somehow get him through it.

After all they had been through his interest in Junkrat’s safety wasn’t just that of a bodyguard making sure to keep the source of his paychecks alive... not that Roadhog would ever admit it out loud, though.

“Fucking _gnat,_ ” he mumbled instead, but the words had no real bite to them.

Roadhog turned his attention back to himself and lifted the hem of the white t-shirt. On his gut two round spots could be seen, roughly a decimetre in radius each and with ragged edges. They weren’t exactly _scars;_ they were too faded, just a bit paler than his regular skin colour. When he ran his hand over them they were smooth, no change in texture at all.

One of them had messed up his tattoo. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked like the upper left corner had been erased. He sighed and let go of the shirt. It was going to be a pain to find someone who would be able to touch it up, and he doubted there was a tattoo artist out here whose work could measure up to Swagman’s anyway.

All in all a slightly ruined tattoo was a small price to pay for getting two shotgun blasts to the gut and coming out alive, but it still bothered him. He _liked_ that tattoo.

Roadhog rubbed his tired face, feeling the stubble and the scars under his fingers. It was first now he realized he wasn’t wearing his mask, but he didn’t have to look far to find it; someone had left it on the bedside stand next to him. 

He picked up the mask and put it back on. The room immediately turned a shade darker, but it was another step towards normalcy.

The realization that the members of Overwatch had seen him without his mask made him feel slightly off, though. Not that he needed to protect his identity or that he felt overly self-conscious; more like it had been one of the last ways to keep his distance from the team. They knew his name, they knew where he came from and now they knew what he looked like.

 _Doesn’t matter,_ he tried to tell himself, but having the mask removed while he was unconscious left him feeling strangely vulnerable, even more so than waking up in an unfamiliar bed wearing clothes that didn't belong to him.

Suddenly a nearby door opened and soft light pooled into the room as Mercy stepped out from the office next to the med bay. She was wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses and a slightly rumpled white doctor’s coat with the Overwatch logo on the shoulder. Her blond hair was in a messy bun.

She looked tired, but when she saw that Roadhog was awake she smiled at him. Even now, despite everything he’d just been through, he felt that familiar warm softness spread through him.

“I see you’re up,” she said in a low voice, probably to not wake Junkrat.

“…Yeah.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

She seemed to be waiting for him to elaborate, so he tried to think of what else people said after being hurt. He usually just got up, checked that his injuries weren’t lethal and took a breather before moving on. Roadhog hadn’t been hospitalized since he was little. He didn’t even remember what for anymore, just some disjointed images of nurses, minty green bed sheets and the ever-present smell of sanitizer.

“What time is it?” he finally settled for.

“Half past two in the morning,” Mercy answered, leaning back against the door frame. The light from the office shone on her back, leaving her face mostly covered in shadows. “You’ve been out for a day. After we left the bank we managed to stabilize you in the truck, and we kept you sedated during the flight back to the Watchpoint. You’ve been sleeping since then.”

She paused and nodded towards his arm before continuing:  
“I took the opportunity to remove the other bullet while I was at it.”

Roadhog’s hand automatically went up to his arm, but there wasn’t even a trace of the bullet wound anymore.

Mercy gestured towards his abdomen and looked up at him.  
“May I…?”

Roadhog hesitated. Then he slowly lifted the hem of his T-shirt to give her access to his injuries.

When she was up this close he noticed that she didn’t just look tired; she looked _beat._ Her skin was pale and she had dark rings under her eyes and instead of her usual brisk pace her movements seemed a bit sluggish. Roadhog briefly wondered if she had slept at all since they had returned from Germany, but then told himself to not think about it. None of his business.

Mercy hummed slightly while inspecting the two faded scars. When she was satisfied she gestured to him that he could let down his shirt, which he did rather quickly.  


“Looks like it’s healing up nicely,” she concluded in her usual professional manner. “It will take a few days until the tissue has completely regenerated, and I want to keep you here for observation just so we can make sure there’s no more internal bleeding.”

Roadhog frowned a bit under his mask. Internal bleeding didn't sound very reassuring. Mercy must've been able to follow his train of thoughts, because she added:  
“Nothing to worry about, I took care of the worst of it back in Germany. But if you experience any sudden abdominal pain or swelling you need to let me know, _verstanden?”_

He just nodded.

“Do you have any other questions?” she asked.

Roadhog thought about it. There was one more thing he wanted to know, but it had nothing to do with his injuries.  
“What happened after I went out?”

He almost thought he saw Mercy’s expression stiffen a bit, but the room was so dark he couldn’t be entirely sure.  
“Nothing worth bothering about,” she said lightly. “We got away, the local law enforcement arrived and took over from there. You should focus on resting right now, and then you can get the details tomorrow.”

He was quiet. If she didn’t want to tell him what had happened right away he wasn’t going to press the issue.

It shouldn’t have bothered him. After all, he was just some hired muscle from the Outback. If Overwatch was keeping secrets it shouldn’t matter to him, unless it affected him and Junkrat or prevented him from doing his job. Still felt... off, somehow.

Mercy changed topics, like she didn't want to linger any longer on the previous issue.  
“Soldier 76 left you a message, by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“He wanted you to know that he had everything under control.”

“…Alright.”

Mercy hesitated. She lowered her voice, like what she was about to tell him was confidential.  
“Thank you for… helping him out a bit. We go back a long way, and I know he isn’t always as in control as he’d like to think.”

Roadhog didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed silent.

Junkrat suddenly let out a loud snort, making them both turn towards him. The young junker squirmed into a slightly more comfortable-looking position and pulled the blanket tighter around himself, but he didn’t seem close to waking up.

Mercy gestured slightly towards him with her head.  
“He’ll be happy to see you’re recovering. He was… rather upset after what happened at the bank, but he did a good job at keeping himself together. He insisted on helping out in the truck, so I let him pressurize your wounds.”

“He’s a good kid,” Roadhog admitted. Fuck it. Maybe he was letting his guard down a bit, but at least Junkrat wasn’t awake to hear it.

Mercy looked over at him with a quizzical expression, like she was taken aback by the unexpected praise. Then she gave him a warm, genuine smile that temporarily seemed to chase away the weariness from her face.  
“That he is,” she agreed, looking back at the sleeping Junkrat.

Roadhog suddenly felt his chest swell with affection. He couldn’t really tell where it was coming from. Maybe it was the way she smiled; maybe he hadn’t realized how important it was for him that other people didn’t treat Rat like he was just a dirty, crazy freak.

Maybe it was because he _really_ liked these two people, and it was a relief to see them both alive and relatively well after a mission that had gone up shit creek.

 _Fuck._ Goddamn near-death experience had made him too sentimental; he needed to get a hold of himself. He leaned back against the pillow and turned his gaze up towards the ceiling, trying to stuff this sudden wave of fondness back where it came from before it smothered him.

Mercy seemed to take that as a sign that he wanted to rest, so she began to back away.  
“I won’t keep you up any longer. Try to get some more sleep, and if you need anything you can contact me over the voice comm. If I’m not awake and it’s not an emergency you can always ask Athena.”

He just nodded.

Mercy walked towards the office, her doctor’s coat swishing behind her. Roadhog took a deep breath. There was something he _needed_ to say, and if he couldn’t manage to say it now he probably never would.

“Thanks, Mercy.”

She stopped in the doorway. The moment before she turned around to answer felt _agonizingly_ slow, even though it was just a couple of seconds.  
“You’re welcome,” she said, and then, almost as an afterthought: “By the way, when we’re here at the base it’s Angela.”

He froze.

For a couple of seconds everything around him stood still while his mind was working in overdrive. It felt like there was a _right_ response; like it was somehow an equation and he’d just been given another letter that would help solve it.

He opened his moth, as if the right answer would somehow just fall out of him -  
“Okay then.”

Mercy just nodded and then went inside of her office, shutting the door behind her.

“Thanks,” he repeated quietly, although he wasn’t really sure what for.

He knew he needed sleep. Still, he spent far too long staring at the med bay ceiling. When he finally felt himself drifting away there was still a faint light shining from under the med bay office’s door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for leaving you on a cliffhanger twice! Have some Recovery™! Also what are good chapter titles and where do I find them


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